


Et Cetera

by superiorbiscuits (thedancinggallifreyan)



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Canon Continuation, F/M, Found Family, Friendship, Happily Ever After, Post-Movie, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-22 10:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20872622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedancinggallifreyan/pseuds/superiorbiscuits
Summary: SPOILERS FOR THE MOVIE. After (and during) the events of the Royal visit, we take a look at what is going on in the lives of the Downton Abbey staff and their pursuit of their own happily ever afters. Cross-posted to ff.net





	1. Daisy and Mr Mason

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea to write a multi-chapter continuation of the series, getting some of my favs to their happy endings they were on the cusp of at the end of the series. I was about to start writing this when news that the movie would be made hit, so I put it off. But now with the movie out, I'm starting from there. Big focus on Mrs Patmore/Mr Mason, but other tagged relationships/characters will definitely feature too (there will be some Anna/Mr Bates, but probably not any specific chapters for them, which is why they are not tagged). Mostly a continuation, but also includes a few missing scenes from the film. Chronology might be funky, and each chapter will jump between story lines (much like the show itself)!

“So how was it?” Mr Mason asked as Daisy finished pouring their tea, “did everything go smoothly?”

Daisy laughed, “Of course not! This is Downton Abbey we’re talking about. But it went well enough.”

She sat on the settee across from her father-in-law, enjoying the warmth of the late-night fire. In all the hubbub of preparations for the Royal visit, it was decided that any staff members who were living outside of the house who could practically move back in should, just to simplify matters. Anna and Mr Bates stayed in their cottage, as moving Johnny into the night nursery would be complicated and perhaps unsettle the boy. And the housemaids who had never lived in the house simply worked longer hours and walked down to the village together when the work was done for the evening. But everyone else- that is, Daisy, Mr Molesley, and the Carsons returned to the servants’ quarters starting just a few days before the King and Queen’s arrival. Which meant that Daisy had not been at Yew Tree Farm for nearly a week. She had missed it, and Mr Mason, and was happy to have the opportunity to catch up with him upon her return.

“Well then!” the farmer exclaimed, “Tell me all about it! Do they look like their pictures?”

“You saw them just as well as I didn’t you?” she replied, “I only saw them from afar at the parade, same as you. Though Andy says the King is shorter than he imagined.”

He chuckled, “I suppose royalty are always imagined to be taller than they are. Adds to their regal-ness. He looked tall enough to me, up on his horse.” 

Daisy tilted her head, “Suppose so. I still don’t see the point in them, but the visit made everyone else happy enough, I guess it was all worth it. And I had fun.”

“What’d you mean?” 

“Well,” her face split into a wide, conspiratory grin, “We staged a coup d’état.”

Mr Mason inhaled suddenly in shock, cause him to cough and sputter on his tea. Daisy concerningly passed him a napkin, asking if he was alright, to which he waved her off. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said once he recovered from the choking, “but will you be? Why haven’t the police carted you off?” 

“Wha for?” Daisy’s face twisted into confusion.

“For staging a coup on the King and Queen of England!”

Daisy sat in stupor for a moment before bursting into laughter, “Oh no Mr Mason! We didn’t stage an actual coup- at least, not against the King and Queen. But we certainly didn’t do anything illegal. I don’t think so anyway.”

Mr Mason stared at her, his wide eyes filled with confusion. He gestured for Daisy to continue.

“The servants- the Royal servants I mean- were awful. Well, not all of them, but most of them. The maids and footmen just followed their butler’s orders, but his orders were to do all the work at Downton. He was a right bugger- the butler I mean. Mr Barrow was so flustered around him, and Mr Carson stood his ground but there wasn’t much he could do. Mrs Hughes was tougher on the housekeeper, Mrs Webb, following her around and shouting. She certainly did all she could to make her job as hard as possible. I haven’t seen her that feisty in years. And the CHEF.” 

“What about the chef?” he asked, on the edge of his seat.

“I think he was the worst of all,” Daisy sat back, “‘course that could just be that I had to be around him the most. It reminded me of Mrs Pamore back before the war. Do you remember how I told you about her cataracts? How mean she was when she thought she was going blind?”

“Yes,” Mr Mason nodded, “Was he as bad as that?”

“Worse!” she answered, “At least Mrs Patmore was creative with her language. And he was such a snob. He wouldn’t cook the servants’ meals at all, and we watched him prepare the lunch. He barely did any of the heavy lifting, making his sous-chefs and all do the whipping and slicing and expected it in his hand at a moment’s notice! And I didn’t see him do anything that Mrs Patmore couldn’t do just as well.” 

“So…” the farmer looked extremely wary as he ventured, “what did you do about it? How did you… overthrow them?”

“It was all Anna and Mr Bates who organized it,” she said, eyes filled with glee at the remembrance of their adventure, “we met in the wine cellar after the parade, and hatched a plan. Somehow Thomas got rid of the footmen, sent them back to London. I think the King’s valet was involved somehow.” 

“Why would he help?”

Daisy shrugged, “‘dunno. But the footmen were under the impression they had to go back to London, and the maids are supposed to go with the footmen, so they all left before tea. And Anna gave Monsieur Courbet a sleeping draught in his tea, so he went up to take a nap. He asked us to wake him up, but of course we didn’t.”

“This all sounds very daring,” Mr Mason said, worry covering his features.

“It was I suppose,” Daisy assented, “but Mrs Patmore was maybe the most daring of all! She ‘accidentally’ splashed a mash of raspberries all over the front of Mr Wilson- that is, the butler. He was already in his evening togs, so when he went up to change into something clean Andy locked him and Courbet in.”

“And that… worked?”

“It did,” she sighed, “it still seems like a whole lot of fuss for nothing, but all the fellas were so pleased to serve at dinner. Though Mr Molesley made a bit of a mess. He spoke to the King out of turn, and when the Queen was kind enough to let him off the hook, he CURTSIED.”

“He never!” Mr Mason laughed. 

“He did! Andy could hardly stop laughing when he was telling us about it. Mr Carson looked less than pleased, but apparently the rest of service went so well that he’s not much bothered by it. Well, not much for Mr Carson anyway.”

“What did Mr Molesley say to the King, exactly?”

“Oh, that’s perhaps the best part,” Daisy leaned forward, “the King mentioned out of the clear blue how the dinner wasn’t what was on the menu, but that he really liked it, and ‘well done to Monsieur Courbet’, and Mr Molesley couldn’t help but speak up and say that it wasn’t Courbet, it was Mrs Patmore, and that it was the Downton Abbey staff doing service. And then he panicked- everyone was staring at him, and it was dead quiet, and Andy was standing right next to Mr Carson and neither of them knew what to say. And then the Queen said to Mr Molesley to give Mrs Patmore their compliments. And then he curtsied, like, really very slowly, and backed out of the room.”

“Well I never,” he chuckled, “poor Mr Molesley! But that’s right special for you and Mrs Patmore, having the compliments of the King and Queen!”

“Oh you know I don’t put much value in their opinions,” Daisy waved her hand.

“But still! They must have eaten the cooking of some of the best chefs in the entire world. That’s something to be proud of Daisy!”

“I suppose,” she shrugged, “But whether or not it matters to me, it certainly meant a lot to Mrs Patmore. I can’t remember the last time I saw her so happy. In fact, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her that happy. So I guess it was all worth it.”

“I’m glad to hear,” Mr Mason set his now-empty teacup down and smiled at his daughter-in-law, “even if it doesn’t mean much to you. You both deserve it, and it does me good to see people I care about so much get what they deserve.”

Daisy smiled at him and shrugged, before saying, “And there was something else good that came out of the visit.”

“There was?”

She nodded, “Andy and I have a shared afternoon off next week. We’ve decided to use it to meet with Mr Travis and finally set the date for the wedding. We’re going to set it for the first day possible. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

Mr Mason grinned wider than he had at any other point that night, “That’s wonderful news! So you’re not uncertain anymore?”

About a month prior she had, after being pressed, opened up to him about why she had not set the date with Andy, about her reservations on the marriage. Mr Mason had been feeling quite tense since then, desperately hopeful that things would work themselves out between the young couple- as Daisy had made him swear not to intervene. 

“No, I’m not uncertain. He showed me during the visit of his passion, and I’m quite sure of him now.”

Mr Mason’s expression turned from one of joy to terror in a split second, his blood running cold. 

“He- he he- didn’t- he wouldn’t- he-” Mr Mason stammered. Daisy cocked her head to the side in confusion, before her cheeks flushed with realization as to his reaction.

“Oh no no no, Mr Mason, not like that! No no no. No. No no no no. Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes would never let- You can ask Ms Baxter! We shared a room the whole time I was there, there wasn’t any, no no no.”

The farmer let out a big sigh of relief, those his own cheeks were similarly colored to Daisy’s. He was glad of the reassurance, even though he knew it really wasn’t much his business. Daisy wasn’t a good enough liar to fool him like that. He wouldn’t ask Ms Baxter (couldn’t even imagine that conversation!) but it was nice to know he wouldn’t have to have a chat with Andy. 

“Well then,” Mr Mason continued once he’d sufficiently recovered, “what did he do?”

“He got jealous because he thought I was making eyes at the plumber, who came to fix the hot water heater just before the visit. Andy was so angry he took a shovel to the heater, but then the plumber came back, and told us all someone tried to sabotage the royal visit. In all the busyness no one ever figured out it was him, but he told me once everything was over. He risked the royal visit, his job, everything for the love of me! Isn’t that romantic?”

Mr Mason stared in confusion, but he was pleased enough with the result that he simply nodded and said, “Well, when he moves here, I’ll have to make sure he knows not to destroy farming equipment just to show you that he cares.”

Daisy just laughed.

“I’m glad,” he continued, “More glad than I can say.”

She watched as he gathered their cups onto a tray and carried them to the sink. She knew he would be happy with her news, and he’s always quite a jovial man, but this was something else. As he washed their cups he was humming, something she rarely heard. He seemed almost invigorated by the news, and didn’t have this reaction when she and Andy first told him of their engagement. 

“Mr Mason?” she stood and walked over to the other side of the kitchen counter from him.

“Yes love?” he responded, keeping his eyes on the washing up. 

“What… is it?” she asked tentatively, not exactly sure what to ask.

He looked up at her suddenly, and seeing his intelligent, sometimes surprisingly insightful daughter-in-law looking at him inquisitively, he knew he shouldn’t try to lie.

“Well,” he sighed, drying his hands on a towel, “You’ll know soon enough anyway. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to pressure you.”

“Pressure me?”

“Into hurrying up with your wedding,” he explained, “At first I didn’t want to rush you with your plans. Y’know, let you take time planning so you could have exactly what you want. But then you said you weren’t sure, and I especially didn’t want to complicate things.”

“How could you complicate things?” Daisy gasped, “You’re not ill are you?! Or is it the farm- do you have to move again?!”

“Nay Daisy,” he was quick to reassure her, “Everything’s fine. I just… wanted to wait until after your wedding to…”

He trailed off, a wistful look in his eyes as he stared at the fire crackling in the hearth.

“After my wedding to do what?” she pressed.

Mr Mason took a deep breath, “To propose to Mrs Patmore.”

Daisy gasped again, her hands coming up quickly to cover her mouth as he continued.

“I didn’t want to steal yours and Andy’s thunder, and I certainly didn’t want to give her or you any stress by having two weddings being planned at once, and I would want to make sure you’re settled in your marriage a bit before she and I go on our honeymoon. That is- if she says yes.”

“I think she will! She’ll be happier than when the King complimented her cooking!” Daisy beamed, and surprised Mr Mason by throwing her arms around him, “Oh Mr Mason I’m so happy for you!”

“You don’t know she’ll say yes,” he said, though he was smiling. It was certainly a good sign that Daisy was excited. Her blessing at the very least wouldn’t hurt matters, and perhaps it would help encourage Mrs Patmore into a positive answer.

“No, I don’t know it,” she replied as she stepped back, “But I’m so pleased to hear you’ll at last ask. Just think- we’ll all be a family! You and me, and Andy, and Mrs Patmore!”

“I hope so,” he agreed, “I’ll always miss Bessie and William, and I thank God every day for them. But I also thank him for you. If it weren’t for you and your kindness, none of the joy we both hope for would be possible.”

If it had been just a few years prior, Daisy would have protested against his praise. But knowing her father-in-law as long as she did now, she knew that would be fruitless. So instead she brushed past it and asked, “Do you know how you’ll ask?”

“Nay, not really,” he admitted, “But I’ve got time to plan it. Perhaps I’ll ask for your advice.”

“I’m not sure I’d know what was best,” she replied, “I’ve never proposed to someone before, and you have. But I’ll help in any way I can.”

“Thank you love,” Mr Mason reached out and squeezed her hand with his.

Daisy smiled. She was already so happy and hopeful for the future, with everything worked out with Andy. But now… now she had even more to look forward too.


	2. Mrs H and Mrs P Have a Slumber Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Different characters and back in time for this chapter! And yes, I am bitter that Mrs Carson is still called Mrs Hughes. Preferably I'd write her as "Mrs Carson" but I didn't want the change between description and dialogue.

“Did you ever think you’d be back here?” Mrs Patmore asked Mrs Hughes. The housekeeper laughed in response.

“You make it sound like I don’t spend every day in this house,” she replied. 

When Lady Mary asked Mr Carson to come back as butler for the Royal visit, the Carsons had talked the situation over. Elsie knew she couldn’t talk Charlie out of service, but they decided together that since it would be a work-intensive and likely very stressful few days, it would simplify things for them to move back into the Abbey for the visit’s duration. And in order to not give the Royal servants any reason to doubt their effectiveness as a staff, Mr Carson asked all other outside residents servants to move back in, if possible. If it were up to him, he might have demanded it, but Elsie pointed out that it wouldn’t be feasible for some of the staff, namely the Bates. So he made it optional, but strongly recommended it. In the end, it was only the Carsons, Daisy, and Mr Molesley would made their way back up to the attics. And just as well, because they needed to leave as many open rooms as possible. Carson didn’t have to share- he moved back into his old room. But to conserve space, Mr Molesley was assigned to share with Andy, Daisy with Ms Baxter, and Mrs Hughes with Mrs Patmore.

The two older ladies had both been to bed at different times, and late in the evening the past couple of nights. So while this was Mrs Hughes’ third evening back in the castle, it was the first evening they were both in the bedroom and awake at the same time. 

“Still,” Mrs Patmore said as she placed her dirty day dress in the hamper for the laundry, “it must be odd. Not sharing a… room with Mr Carson.” 

Mrs Hughes gave the cook an exasperated look as she dug through her bag for her hairbrush, though the wry smile on her lips told Mrs Patmore that she was merely slightly annoyed, and not actually angry with her friend’s comment. 

“I didn’t mean like that,” Mrs Patmore chuckled, “I only meant, well you’ve spent every evening with him by your side for near abouts two years. I get a bad night’s sleep whenever I get a new nightgown I’m not used too.”

“Mr Carson is quite a bit more noticeable than a new nightgown,” Mrs Hughes said, finally withdrawing her brush and sitting down to unpin her hair, “But I don’t know why I’m giving you a hard time. You’re absolutely right. I had no idea how quickly I’d get used to… having him with me. I kept waking up, these past two nights, my heart racing because I couldn’t feel him next to me.”

“Really?” Mrs Patmore asked, looking less teasing and more genuinely curious. 

“Yes,” she replied, sighing, “I spent 63 years sleeping alone and less than two sharing my bed with a man, and now I can’t sleep without him. Some independent woman I am.”

“Well, I think it’s romantic,” Mrs Patmore said as she sat on her bed, across from Mrs Hughes, who snorted in response.

“You would think that,” the housekeeper leaned over to place her now-removed pins on the table beside her cot, “You’ve never had to surrender your independence.” 

Mrs Hughes heard no response as she began brushing her hair, and after a few moments looked Mrs Patmore. She let out a soft gasp when she saw the hurt expression on her friend’s face.

“Oh Mrs Patmore,” she said earnestly, “I’m sorry. That was very insensitive of me.”

“It’s alright,” the cook replied, but her gaze dropped to focus on her hands folded together in her lap. Mrs Hughes thought she could see a glimmer of tears beginning to form. 

“No, it’s not,” Mrs Hughes countered, crossing to sit next to Mrs Patmore on her bed, placing her hand on her back in comfort.

“But you’re right,” Mrs Patmore tried to sound matter-of-fact, but cracks of emotion were slipping through, “I don’t know what it’s like to surrender my independence. I don’t know what it’s like to be married.”

“Right or not, I shouldn’t have said it,” she replied, rubbing her hand on her friend’s back, before tentatively asking, “Have you… heard from him lately?”

Mrs Patmore shook her head, which still hung staring at her lap. She took a deep, shuddering breath and said, “It’s been over a month.”

“A month?” Mrs Hughes exclaimed, “You haven’t seen him in a month?!”

“Not quite,” she sighed, “I hadn’t heard from him in a bit, so on my last half day I ‘happened by’ on my way back from the village. I made the excuse of picking up something for Daisy in the village and dropping it off there for her as a surprise, but really I just wanted to see him.”

“How was he then? Was he acting odd?”

“Not really, no,” the cook wiped a tear that had managed to escape, “he was… normal. Sort of. We talked for a few minutes, and he was friendly and cordial. But he wasn’t…”

Mrs Patmore trailed off, unsure how to continue. After a minute, Mrs Hughes prompted her with a gentle “He wasn’t what?”

Taking a deep breath, she said, “For quite a while now, months in fact, he’d been… friendlier. I mean, he’s always friendly, but it was different. You know, he’d come to see me and we’d go for a walk, or he’d invite me to tea, that sort of thing.”

Mrs Hughes nodded, familiar with these stories. She’d been quite pleased that the farmer had, at least seemingly, started courting her friend in earnest.

“It seems like for the past year there hasn’t been a week gone by that we haven’t spent some time together” Mrs Patmore continued, “Sometimes it’d be with Daisy there, or Daisy and Andy. Or he’d come here and we’d be surrounded by servants, but it really seemed like he was extra happy to spend time with me, and he acted extra friendly to me. Like I was… special to him.”

“I think you are special to him,” the housekeeper tried to encourage her friend.

Mrs Patmore shrugged, “I thought I was too. But when I stopped by a fortnight ago, it was like I could have been anyone. He treated me with as much friendliness as he would Mr Molesley. I’ve visited like that before, and he would always invite me in for tea, even if it was only a quick cuppa. Even when I dropped by unexpected. But we only talked for a bit, and then he sent me on my way with a ‘I’m sure you’re busy and I shouldn’t keep you.’”

“Maybe he was busy,” Mrs Hughes said, “Had a lot of work to get to that day, and didn’t want to be insensitive.”

“Maybe,” Mrs Patmore let out another sigh, “It didn’t seem like it. But maybe I’m just making things up. Maybe everything is fine between us and he really is just so busy at the farm he doesn’t have time for me. Or maybe I’ve made everything up and there’s nothing between us but friendship.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Mrs Hughes countered emphatically. Mrs Patmore shrugged again, so the housekeeper hoped changing the subject would help her feel better, “How is your house going? Is Lucy still doing alright?”

“Oh,” Mrs Patmore wiped away another tear and sniffed, “it’s doing fine. Better than fine really. We have bookings nearly every night for the next three months. It’s earning its keep and then some.”

“Well that’s good news!” Mrs Hughes smiled, trying to perk up her friend, but Mrs Patmore still seemed sad.

“Yes, it is,” she replied, “It’s very good news. But I just… I can’t feel joy about the house just now.”

“Why not?”

“Because… you know I bought it originally with the plan to live there when I retired,” she sniffed again.

“Yes,” Mrs Hughes replied quietly, coming to realize what Mrs Patmore was going to say.

“I’d started to hope that maybe I wouldn’t live there,” the cook’s voice was watery, “That maybe, I had another future to look forward to. And I know I shouldn’t complain. It’s a fine house, and I would be very comfortable if I ended up living there. But…”

“You’d hoped to be more than comfortable,” Mrs Hughes finished her thought. Mrs Patmore nodded, and the tears that had been barely leaking burst forth as though the dam holding them back had broken. Mrs Hughes produced a handkerchief, and wrapped her arms around Mrs Patmore, trying to provide as much comfort as she could.

After a couple minutes of continued crying with no let up, Mrs Hughes asked, “Would it help if I went and got Daisy? She might be able to explain the way he’s been acting.” She also thought the cook’s surrogate daughter may provide some extra loving kindness that may help heal Mrs Patmore’s broken heart.

But the cook shook her head, “No. I don’t want to burden her with this. She’s got enough going on with her engagement, and she shouldn’t have to deal with my feelings.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t see it that way,” Mrs Hughes replied, a level of harshness coming into her voice, wanting to prevent Mrs Patmore from slipping into self-pity. She used a gentler tone to ask, “Would it help if I spoke to him?”

“You?” Mrs Patmore looked up.

“Well yes,” Mrs Hughes smiled gently, “Goodness knows I owe you a favor, or really a thousand favors. I could see why he’s been acting this way, or encourage him, or whatever you want. I’m at your beck and call.”

Mrs Patmore smiled, the tears seeming to abate slightly, “Thank you, but no. I’m not sure it would do much. And if he truly isn’t interested in me, I would hate to make things awkward by your talking to him.”

Mrs Hughes nodded understandingly and said, “Well, if there is any way I can help, please tell me.”

“I will,” she replied. They were both quiet for a minute, before Mrs Patmore decided to change the subject, “How is ol’ Mr Carson anyway? He seems happy to be back in charge.”

“He is,” Mrs Hughes began gently wringing her hands, “but I worry of course. He hasn’t worked in over a year. The shaking gets better with rest and calm, and worse with stress and fatigue. Things seem to be fine so far, but only time will tell.”

“If it gets worse with fatigue,” Mrs Patmore ventured, “Aren’t you worried about him sleeping without you? If he’s anything like you, waking up in the night, that can’t be good for his hand.”

Mrs Hughes bit her lip and looked at the cook, “I am worried, but there’s not much to be done. He was convinced that moving back in was the right choice, and given that I couldn’t talk him out of serving I agree. It is better that he be here. And we could hardly share a room here.”

“Couldn’t you?” 

“Mrs Patmore,” Mrs Hughes sounded vaguely exasperated, “A large part of us, and Daisy and Mr Molesley, moving back in here is to not give the Royal staff a reason to doubt us. It wouldn’t help if he and I were set apart in a room of our own.”

“I know that,” Mrs Patmore smiled and rolled her eyes, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t sneak into his room.”

“Mrs Patmore!” the housekeeper was aghast.

“Well,” the cook laughed, “You could. If you’re caught what’s the worst that could happen? Mr Carson’s already retired, and it’d be an early retirement for you if you were dismissed. But it’s not as if your reputation would be tarnished. You’re not some housemaid with a crush on the handsome footman. He’s your husband.”

Mrs Hughes was silent, and Mrs Patmore felt nervous that she may have crossed a line, when her friend let out a very undignified snort.

“What?” Mrs Patmore asked.

Mrs Hughes smiled at her and said, “Suppose I tell Mr Carson you called him a ‘handsome footman’?”

“I specifically said he’s not a ‘handsome footman’,” Mrs Patmore chuckled in response, “But I’m serious. If you really think it would help, I’d cover for you.”

“Thank you Mrs Patmore,” Mrs Hughes reached over and rubbed the other woman’s hand, “You’re a good friend. But I think it’d be best for me to stay here.”

“Suit yourself,” Mrs Patmore replied, smiling at her friend. After a moment she reached up and gave Mrs Hughes a hug, which was warmly returned. And then the two senior female members of staff prepared finished preparing themselves for bed, thinking of the work that awaited them in the next couple of days with eagerness and trepidation, as well as their own cares, and those of their friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Mrs P! Please comment if you liked it or if you have any suggestions and/or prompts! I'm happy to take all of those.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review and let me know your thoughts- I'm very open to constructive criticism!


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